


lesson five

by andnowforyaya



Series: blue moon pet house series [7]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Breathplay, Choking, Degradation, Depression, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, Kinks, M/M, Master/Pet, Monsta X Bingo, Rape, Recovery, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9546017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: All dreams must come to an end someday.





	1. Chapter 1

Consciousness comes to him in fits and starts. Kihyun is aware of small, impossible things first: dust particles landing on his eyelashes, the way the light is filtering in behind him through a slit in the closed curtains, Hoseok’s sleeping breaths ghosting over his lips, the pulse at his wrist matching the beating in his chest. He inhales, exhales, and Hoseok’s arms circle around his waist tighter, safer, closer. He hums against Hoseok’s chest.

“If you’re awake,” Hoseok mumbles, his voice so low it rumbles with every word, “let’s pretend you aren’t, so we can stay like this for a little bit longer.” 

Kihyun presses his lips to the soft skin under Hoseok’s collarbone. He is naked -- they both are -- save for the studded collar around his neck, the covers sliding over their bare legs like water. Kihyun imagines they are in a lake, their own personal paradise, floating on the surface with each other, the bed an island. He read somewhere that there used to be a lake so saturated with salt that you could walk on it. Maybe that could be their lake. He imagines the water lapping at their feet, the sun warming their skin.

“How long?” Kihyun asks. “It’s almost evening.”

“Shh, shh,” Hoseok says. He tries to bring a finger to Kihyun’s lips with his eyes still closed, but he accidentally nearly puts it up Kihyun’s nose instead. Their soft laughter mingles in the quiet air. Kihyun huddles closer, his lips against Hoseok’s finger, smiling. “Time isn’t real here,” Hoseok continues, his voice resonant. “We’ve escaped everything. We could stay here forever.” 

“Here,” Kihyun says. “On this little bed?”

Hoseok nods. Kihyun sees him open one eye to peek at Kihyun’s skeptical expression.

“How will we eat?” Kihyun asks, grinning, teasing. He runs his hand through Hoseok’s wild blond hair. The color in it is starting to fade, the master’s roots growing in slowly. Kihyun traces the shell of Hoseok’s ear between his forefinger and thumb. “And take care of other needs?”

“Do you enjoy shredding apart my dreams?” Hoseok asks. But he’s smiling. He’s always smiling around Kihyun, now, like he can’t help it. It isn’t the smile he uses with clients and guests, either. It’s softer, rounded at the ends, and as fragile as dried flower petals. Kihyun loves this smile; he thinks he’d do just about anything to keep seeing it.

“Of course not,” Kihyun says, “but all dreams must come to an end someday.”

The smile falters, and Kihyun’s heart skips a beat. Hoseok’s hand over his hip tightens as he kneads Kihyun’s muscle there, reviving a shallow, forgotten ache.

“Not all dreams, I hope,” Hoseok says. Hoseok kisses him, and Kihyun wonders if he ever awoke at all, because surely reality would never allow him to feel this much bliss.

.

Minhyuk dabs a light cream over Kihyun’s cheek bones, the rosy color staining the pads of Minhyuk’s fingers. He sticks his tongue out between his teeth as he works, deep in concentration, and Kihyun isn’t sure if it’s a habit Minhyuk picked up from Kihyun or one that Kihyun picked up from Minhyuk. His skin pebbles under the thin sweater he’s wearing when he hears wind howling outside, and his cheeks are starting to ache. 

“Stop smiling,” Minhyuk says softly. “You don’t need to anymore.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says, allowing the smile to drop from his face. He feels even colder without it, like someone had ripped a mask from over his skin. Minhyuk works without speaking, applying makeup onto Kihyun to draw attention to his eyes, lightly contouring the hollows of his cheeks, his jaw, his nose. The caress of the soft bristles of the brush make Kihyun’s eyelids flutter closed.

“Smile again,” Minhyuk says.

Kihyun does, anticipating the feeling of the brush over his cheeks, but nothing comes. He raises an eyebrow in question, eyes still closed.

Minhyuk chuckles, his voice low and husky. “Just wanted to see if you would do it.”

Minhyuk’s fingers grip his chin, making Kihyun jump in his seat. He opens his eyes as Minhyuk turns his face from side to side, inspecting his work. When he lets go, Kihyun can still feel the phantom press of his fingers against his jaw.

“Beautiful,” Minhyuk says, nodding to himself. Kihyun flushes as something in his stomach flutters. Sometimes when Minhyuk speaks to him, he feels the way he feels when Master Hyunwoo speaks to him -- flustered and small and appreciative. He’s not sure when this change first began to take root, only that something about Minhyuk has shifted recently. The other pet is less garrulous, more focused. When Kihyun seeks him out in the middle of the night he often wakes feeling smothered and too warm, like he’d been covered with too many blankets. Still, he is a sort of sanctuary to Kihyun, someone who knows and with whom he can speak freely about how confused and wonderful he feels around Hoseok. 

Kihyun looks at himself in the vanity mirror. Minhyuk has sculpted him into something else entirely, something beautiful and fierce, his lips a red slash across his face, his cheekbones sharp and cut like the facets on a gemstone. Gold and pink tones shimmer over the lids of his eyes, under his browbone. “Oh,” he says, touching his own fingers to his lips.

“This was always inside of you,” Minhyuk says, putting his hands on Kihyun’s shoulders and peering into the mirror with him. “You just needed someone to draw it out.”

.

His client in the evening smells of oily money. With one glance, Kihyun can tell he is someone who comes from a family that has always been wealthy, perhaps with wealth tracing back to generations before New Seoul was built -- when it was just Seoul, a city on the cusp of becoming something greater, bubbling with new technology and promise.

The client’s hair is slicked back, his suit tailored. He is young, only a few years older than Hoseok, though the air he exudes seems to be of a young man in a Pet House for the first time. By his actions, however, it is clear this isn’t his first visit. He’d kept a proprietary hand on the small of Kihyun’s back the entire walk from the parlor to the corridor with the private rooms. Though Kihyun had been leading, he couldn’t help but feel the client knew the way, that the client had been pushing him.

They enter a private room. The client grins, revealing a gold molar that sparkles with the diamond laid into the center of it. Kihyun forces a smile back, lowering his lashes, letting the client close the door behind them as the client unbuttons his cufflinks with a glint in his eye.

“What a pretty little thing you are,” he says.

“Thank you,” Kihyun responds politely. The bed fills the room, its headboard and footboard made of metal bars. Kihyun has been trussed up against them in every position imaginable. There is a chest to the side with toys, and a small stand beside the bed for convenience. The curtains are closed over the window that takes up almost an entire wall. Kihyun stands beside the bed, awaiting instruction. 

Usually, he has a good understanding of what a client wants before the door even closes. He has learned to read people well. Perhaps not as well as Minhyuk can, but well enough. And besides, he knows what he looks like, and how he behaves and presents himself. Most clients want to pamper and pet him after they’ve had their fun; others want to think they’ve been the one to train him into submission.

With Hoseok, all of this falls away. Kihyun doesn’t really know who he is when he is with Hoseok, not anymore. The rules fade into the background, along with all of his carefully curated mannerisms. All he knows is that Hoseok makes him unspeakably happy. Even now, just thinking about the master makes the funny feeling in his gut disappear.

This client reeks of desperation. Of a sort of thirst for power that Kihyun doesn’t understand. He already seems to have everything; what more could he want? He will want to assert his dominance, Kihyun knows, but how?

The client turns the light up to full brightness in the room, and Kihyun blinks as his eyes adjust. Blue Moon keeps most of the private spaces in dim lighting, for privacy and allure and atmosphere.

“Want to be able to see everything,” the client says. When he smiles, his eyes narrow and gleam, his mouth full of teeth.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Kihyun’s hand slips on the lever as he hunches over the seat of the toilet, but he manages to flush the sick down. He’d only thrown up bile and water. He scrunches his nose, hanging his head over the bowl still in case the waves of nausea have not passed. He’d spent almost an hour in the shower, the water scalding hot, but he can still feel the client’s hands on him, his fingers pressing into his body, holding his mouth open, fucking him. Using him.

His stomach clenches and he gags, eyes tearing up, but nothing comes out. He spits into the bowl.

The session hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. Not really. But it left Kihyun feeling sour and dirty. Maybe it was the way the client had called him a slut and really seemed to mean it. The way he’d looked Kihyun in the eyes when he degraded him, held him by his chin when Kihyun tried to look away. He’d tied Kihyun to the bedposts and used toys on him until Kihyun was begging for release, his mouth speaking words that betrayed the uneasy feeling in his gut.

“A trained toy,” the client had called him. “You’re barely human, aren’t you? An empty shell to be used and tossed aside. You like this. You were made for this.”

Kihyun had burned hot with shame. The client hadn’t left any marks on him but his skin still felt like he’d been standing too close to an open flame. He knew some pets took to this sort of humiliation well -- enjoyed it, even, but it was never something he quite understood. He’d never had to use safewords before. Tonight he’d almost said them. He wishes he had. He should have said them as soon as the door closed in the private room, locking him in with the client.

His tears hit the water in the bowl, and he scrubs at his cheeks with the backs of his hands angrily. He should take another shower; maybe he’ll feel better after that.

He flushes the toilet again, and stands shakily, making his way back to the showers. As the water runs down his legs a second time, he hears footsteps outside of the stall he is using. Then, Minhyuk’s voice echoes against the walls of the shared baths.

“You’ve been in here a long time,” Minhyuk says. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kihyun says, wishing he could disappear, heart in his throat. He can’t help but feel he’s done something wrong, his mind briefly conjuring the familiar image of the small, windowless room. The locked door and darkness. He takes a shuddering breath and nearly chokes on the water coming down from the showerhead.

A beat of silence. _Please leave_ , Kihyun repeats in his head. _Please leave please leave please leave_. But Minhyuk doesn’t go. The curtain draws to the side, a cloud of cooler air hitting Kihyun like a wall, and he shivers as Minhyuk joins him under the spray, his arms coming to wrap around Kihyun’s waist and pulling Kihyun against his chest.

“I know you,” Minhyuk says into Kihyun’s ear. “You’re not fine.”

His hands rub soothing circles over Kihyun’s stomach and hips. Minhyuk reaches past Kihyun for the soap and lathers both his hands in it, returning to knead Kihyun’s shoulders and upper back, to massage the base of his skull where it meets spine. Kihyun falls back against Minhyuk, trying to let Minhyuk’s fingers tease out the remaining feelings of disgust and unease and shame.

“Turn around,” Minhyuk whispers. Kihyun does, so they are chest to chest. Minhyuk rubs his soapy hands over his front, brushing over Kihyun’s nipples, scratching lightly over his ribs before his hands reach behind Kihyun, lower, curving over the meat of his ass, and then one of Minhyuk’s fingers is pressing against his hole.

Kihyun gasps and twitches against Minhyuk. He hears Minhyuk chuckle when his finger breaches him, thick and blunt and foreign.

“Stop,” Kihyun says, and Minhyuk freezes. The other pet is suddenly all hard edges and flat planes. Kihyun doesn't recognize him, or his touch, and he wants to rail himself against Minhyuk until one of them breaks. “Minhyuk, stop,” he begs.

“You don’t want to play?” Minhyuk sounds hurt, but there’s an edge to his words, too, one that Kihyun has tried to ignore for a long time.

“I don’t want to play,” he agrees, nodding.

Minhyuk takes his hand away and returns to washing them both, his lips pursed, his brows furrowed. Kihyun exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as normalcy returns to them quickly, and for a few moments the only sounds are of the suds foaming and popping and the water streaming from the showerhead over their bodies and down the drain.

“Have you washed your hair?” Minhyuk asks.

“Yes,” Kihyun says. “Thank you, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk’s expression softens as he finishes cleaning them. He shuts off the shower and reaches outside of the curtains for a fluffy towel he’s hung outside of the stall. He brings it over Kihyun’s head and shoulders, gently drying his hair as he drips water onto the smooth, tiled floors.  
  
Then Minhyuk asks, “Who hurt you?”   
  
Kihyun’s body locks up at the question. His jaw clenches shut. Minhyuk’s expression of sympathy is almost too much for him to bear. He shivers as Minhyuk moves on to towel-drying Kihyun’s shoulders and arms, gentle and methodical.

“It...it was nothing,” Kihyun manages to say. “The client this evening said a few things. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”   
  
Minhyuk hums, patting the towel around Kihyun’s hips before securing it around his waist like a giant cloudy skirt. “I see,” Minhyuk says. “Shall I tell Master Hoseok?”   
  
“No,” Kihyun says quickly. “I -- I will tell him.” He flushes with the thought. He wants nothing more in this moment than for Hoseok to hold him in his arms and stroke his fingers through his hair as they fall asleep. Minhyuk told him before that this means he loves Hoseok, and Kihyun wishes he could agree with some certainty, but he's not too sure. What is love to a pet? What is love to Kihyun?   
  
“Okay,” Minhyuk says. He steps forward and, with a light, disarming smile, kisses Kihyun’s forehead and nudges him in the direction of the exit.  “Then good night, Kihyunnie.”   
  
Minhyuk lingers in the baths after Kihyun has left, humming a song that echoes across the tiles: the lullaby Kihyun sang to Hoseok and Minhyuk, about the child-snatching witch.   
  
.   
  
Hoseok is not in the master suite when Kihyun goes to look for him, but Hyunwoo is, already tucked under the covers and snoring lightly, his tablet on his chest from where he must have fallen asleep reading or working on it. His light is on, casting a small circle of gold around his side of the bed.   
  
Kihyun sniffs and walks forward into the room, going towards that pool of light, turning the reading light off once he’s beside the bed. He takes the tablet and puts it on the nightstand, also. At the small click of noise, Hyunwoo stirs, and he squints one eye open, then both.   
  
"Kihyunnie?" His voice is raspy with sleep. Kihyun wonders if he likes having the whole bed to himself, or if he misses Hoseok's -- or anyone else's -- presence. Kihyun can't think of the last time he spent the whole night in his own bed alone.   
  
"Yes," Kihyun says. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I was just looking for Master Hoseok."   
  
Hyunwoo grins, his eyes closing again. "He went to the gym."   
  
Kihyun raises an eyebrow. "This late at night?"   
  
"He wanted to work through something," Hyunwoo explains. He rolls over onto his side and continues, "You're welcome to stay and wait for him to come back. Or talk to me?"   
  
"No," Kihyun says. "That's okay. Thank you. I'll go find him."   
  
Hyunwoo's next words are lost in a mumble. His breathing evens out. He's asleep again. Kihyun makes sure the covers are tucked around his shoulders before leaving the room and walking down the hall to the elevator.

He pulls the sleeves of his shirt over his hands and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It feels like the whole world is asleep. He should be, too, but -- but he'd told Minhyuk he would talk to Hoseok, and he will. He has to do it now, or he'll never do it. He knows how his own brain works. Eventually, he'd bury the experience he had this evening away into the far corners of his mind, push the feelings of disgust down inside of him until he could ignore them without guilt.   
  
He takes the elevator down to the basement, where the gym and pool of the hotel are located. The hallways are empty. This late, guests are not allowed in this part of the building, but staff are. And pets, Kihyun supposes.   
  
He hears Hoseok before he sees him, ears catching the rhythmic thumping of shoes hitting a tread. He must be running. Kihyun pauses before the door to the gym, uncertain if he'd be welcome here. Maybe he shouldn't have come down to find Hoseok. The gym is like his church, or something, Kihyun recalls. Hoseok had once told him it was the only place he could unwind.   
  
But he'd also told Kihyun he would always be there for him, that Kihyun should never feel like he's burdening him with anything. Steeling himself, Kihyun steps forward into the doorway.

"Oh--" Hoseok crashes against the front of the machine when he sees Kihyun, nearly tripping over his feet, surprising them both with an aborted shout. Kihyun rushes forward to help. In the end, Hoseok steps to the sides of the machine and shuts it down, panting, sweat glistening as it trails down his neck and soaks the collar of his sleeveless shirt. The whirring of the tread slows and quiets and then stops. Hoseok takes listening buds out of his ears and puts them into a pocket in his shorts. Kihyun can hear faint music screaming out of them despite the cloth barrier and physical space separating them.  
  
"Kihyun," Hoseok states, still breathing hard. His chest rises and falls. Kihyun watches him as he steps off the machine, feeling silly again. He shouldn't have come down here. Hoseok doesn't need to be bothered by something so trivial as his feelings. "It's late. What are you doing down here, love?"   
  
Kihyun flushes at the pet name. First simply _pet_ , then _baby_ , now _love_. He looks at Hoseok's feet because he can't bear to look him in the eyes. "Wanted to talk," Kihyun says quietly. "What are you doing down here so late?"   
  
This time Hoseok flushes, though it might just be from exertion. He says, "Just trying to clear out my mind."   
  
Kihyun grins automatically, quip on his tongue. "Does it need so much clearing?"   
  
Hoseok laughs softly and steps closer. "I want to hold you, but I'm all sweaty. What did you want to talk about?"   
  
"I don't care if you're sweaty," Kihyun says. Their bodies seem to draw closer on their own. Hoseok raises his hand, and he is close enough to cup Kihyun's cheek, but he traces his finger down Kihyun's jawline instead, leaving the pads of his two longest fingers pressed against Kihyun's collarbone. Kihyun wonders if Hoseok can feel Kihyun's heart hammering in his chest from there.  
  
"What did you want to talk about?" Hoseok asks again, gentler this time. "You can tell me anything."   
  
Kihyun breathes him in, his musk and ripe sweat and everything else. It should make him want to cover his nose but he wants to nuzzle against Hoseok's neck instead, like a cat. He doesn't know how to begin. He looks at Hoseok with uncertainty, biting his bottom lip.   
  
Hoseok, sensing his unease, takes him by both hands and guides him to a bench. There are weights littered around the base of it. He straddles the bench next to Kihyun, still holding his hands. "My pet," Hoseok whispers. "What is it?"   
  
Kihyun closes his eyes. He almost recoils when he sees the client behind the backs of his eyelids. "There was a client," he begins. "Tonight. He was -- unpleasant."   
  
Hoseok raises both eyebrows in alarm. "Unpleasant how?"   
  
"He just made me feel..." Kihyun chews on his bottom lip. He breaks skin, and the taste on his tongue is metallic. "Dirty," he whispers.   
  
"Baby," Hoseok says, squeezing his hands. "You're not."   
  
"Clients have spoken to me before like this but it's never been -- I've never felt like they really believed it, master. He really believed it." Kihyun can feel his eyes burning, but he wills himself not to cry. "I think he made me believe it, too."   
  
"Did he hurt you?" Hoseok asks. Kihyun shakes his head. Hoseok's hands come up to cup his cheeks, to lift his face. His thumbs swipe tenderly under his eyes. "You're not dirty," he says succinctly, his voice full of warmth, yet stern. "I'll add a note of what he is into, and try to make it so that you won't see him again."   
  
"He'll come back," Kihyun says, not as a question.   
  
Hoseok nods. "We can't bar him from Blue Moon since he hasn't technically broken any rules. Do you remember...the last client who hurt you?”

“The one you attacked,” Kihyun says.

Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line. “Yes,” he says. “Oversight issued us a warning for that, so we’re trying to play by the rules. I will tell Hyunwoo to keep a look out for him, also. Kihyun, thank you for coming to me. I'm -- I'm proud of you for speaking up."  
  
Kihyun lets the praise wash over him, even as he files away the guilt that comes with being the reason Blue Moon has been issued a warning. It seems that he brings trouble wherever he goes. But Hoseok is smiling at him, and he feels a smile spread over his lips in return. Then they are kissing. Just a light, chaste press of lips, but it still makes Kihyun's heart jump all over the place in his chest. He’s not dirty, and Hoseok is holding him like a precious object, something of worth and value.   
  
"Hoseok," Kihyun says when they've pulled apart, after the fog has cleared from his mind. "If he comes back, he'll just request someone else at the House."   
  
Hoseok strokes his fingers through Kihyun's hair. He nods. Kihyun thinks of Changkyun and Jooheon and even Hyungwon, and a bubble of protectiveness swells inside of him.   
  
"I don't want to subject anyone else to him," Kihyun says. "If it's me he asks for again, it's okay."   
  
Hoseok sighs, his thumbs still gently rubbing under Kihyun’s eyes. Hoseok looks sad, and tired, and Kihyun wonders what it is that’s keeping Hoseok up at night, running miles to nowhere in the middle of an empty gym. "Oh, Kihyun," Hoseok says, kissing him again. “You’re always surprising me.”   
  
Hoseok sleeps that night in Kihyun's bed, his arms wrapped securely around Kihyun's waist, his breath warm and slow against the back of his neck.

.

Kihyun wakes up alone, the sun slanting in through his curtains directly onto his face. He squints against the light and rolls over into the empty space Hoseok left behind, rubbing his palm over the sheets. They’re cool; Hoseok has been awake and gone for a while.

He puts his nose to the pillow Hoseok slept on last night, inhaling the smell of his hair and shampoo until he realizes what he is doing and stops, though this doesn’t stop the fluttering that has taken up residence in his stomach. Kihyun sighs and sits up, stretching his arms over his head, pulling at the collar of his shirt, then letting himself play with the collar around his neck. He only takes it off when he showers. The spikes are dull against his fingertips.

The door creaks open. Kihyun’s eyes dart to it as his body snaps to full consciousness, but it is only Minhyuk, smiling sheepishly as he pushes the door closed behind him and holding a tablet in his hand.

“You’re awake, Kihyunnie,” Minhyuk singsongs before helping himself up onto Kihyun’s bed, putting the tablet on the nightstand, and wrapping both arms around Kihyun’s narrow waist. He moves behind him and falls over, bringing Kihyun down with him, and they land on the covers with their limbs twisted together. “I missed you,” Minhyuk continues, pecking Kihyun once on the cheek before burying his nose into Kihyun’s hair.

Kihyun yawns and snuggles back into the warmth Minhyuk provides. “You’re insatiable,” Kihyun protests. “It hasn’t even been a full night that you haven’t seen me. Whose is that?”

“It is Master Hyunwoo’s,” Minhyuk says, referring to the tablet. “He lets me watch the news on it.” Then he nips the shell of Kihyun’s ear gently, making Kihyun flinch and swat Minhyuk where his hands are rubbing Kihyun’s belly. “You’re so grumpy in the mornings,” Minhyuk says playfully, near his ear. 

“Maybe you just bring out the worst in me,” Kihyun says.

Minhyuk hums, seeming to think about the statement. “No, that can’t be it.”

The fluttering returns to Kihyun’s stomach, familiar yet not. If love is what Kihyun feels for Hoseok, then what is it that he feels for Minhyuk? And why is it so different? Certainly there is affection here, and trust, and a mutual understanding of what they can offer each other, but there is something else, too.

A wall.

Minhyuk’s smile is like a locked gate. There are times Kihyun feels he’s not with Minhyuk at all, even if they’re in the same room, even when Minhyuk is holding him close, petting his hair. He’s cold, and hot, and unbelievably charming, but he can flip it on and off like a switch.

Kihyun makes a frustrated noise and turns in Minhyuk’s arms, planting his face against Minhyuk’s chest and closing his eyes, willing his mind not to turn the thoughts over and over fretfully. “Let’s not miss lunch again,” he says in what he hopes is a clear signal that he wishes to sleep a bit more.

He feels Minhyuk’s fingers in his hair, feels when he traces them down to his collar, where he digs two fingers under the leather and tugs gently before he releases the collar again. “I’ll wake you,” Minhyuk promises, “when it’s time to eat.”

.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later, Hyungwon finds him and drags him out for a stroll around the block. As Hyungwon promises not to stray further than that block radius, Master Hyunwoo even allows them to go outside without an escort. Hyungwon asks Kihyun if he would like to bring Minhyuk along, but Kihyun says that he would not. Minhyuk left after lunch to join Changkyun and Jooheon in the pool, and besides, it might be nice to spend some time alone with Hyungwon, with whom some distance has strangely bred familiarity. He doesn’t feel quite so antagonistic toward the lanky, beautiful pet anymore, though Kihyun can’t tell if this is due to their relationship getting better or just the passing of time.

Halfway around the block, however, Kihyun starts to feel guilty for not inviting Minhyuk out with them, and beseeches Hyungwon to enter a bakery so that he can find a gift with which to bribe Minhyuk in exchange for him not to be angry with him. Hyungwon rolls his eyes at Kihyun, the diamonds in his collar sparkling as they enter the small shop. An electronic bell rings in the back, alerting the store minder of their presence.

At once, Kihyun's nostrils fill with the smell of freshly baked bread, of sweet vanilla and butter. A richer scent underlies these, one that evades Kihyun's memories until he spots a machine churning melted chocolate in an elegant vat on a shelf behind the counter. Cocoa.

"Can I help you?" a middle-aged woman asks, greeting them at the glass display of cakes. Kihyun spots miniature layered cakes in the display, decorated by flowers made of frosting and webs of spun sugar. He salivates. The woman smiles, her eyes landing on the collars around both of their necks.

"Just looking for a small treat," Kihyun says, smiling and not quite able to meet her eyes. Hyungwon, bored already, has moved on to another display of rows upon rows of cupcakes, seeming to examine each individual baked item.

"Well," the woman says, "let me know if I can get anything for you."

"Thank you," Kihyun says politely.

He browses the displays for a short while, thinking about what Minhyuk might like from the selection. There are cakes, of course, and cupcakes, but also cookies and pastries and small chocolates, tiny and delicately decorated.

"Hyungwon," Kihyun calls, beckoning the taller pet over, "do you think Minhyuk would like some chocolates?"

Hyungwon strolls over luxuriously -- Kihyun doesn't think he's seen anyone move the way Hyungwon does, like each step is a gift -- and stops in front of the display. He doesn't even look at the chocolate, like he doesn't want to tempt himself. "Minhyuk-hyung will like anything you give him," Hyungwon says flatly, quirking an eyebrow.

Kihyun flushes. "That doesn't mean I can just get him _anything_."

Hyungwon sighs, tilting his head back and thinking for a moment. "I think he'd prefer a cupcake, honestly. I remember he likes them."

Kihyun beams, and Hyungwon averts his eyes, swallowing visibly. "Thank you."

He ends up ordering a vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting for Minhyuk from the lady, and sneaks in a couple of chocolates for Hyungwon and Hoseok, too, when the other pet is not looking. He pays with the Blue Moon account, and the worker thanks him for his business, eyes still lingering for a moment too long on Kihyun's collar.

Kihyun waits at the register, sensing she has words stuck behind her teeth that she wants to say. At his pause, her eyes flicker up to meet his. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asks.

"Doesn't what?" Kihyun asks innocently.

"Wearing that all the time," she says, lifting her finger and pointing.

Kihyun tugs at the collar, feeling the warm leather at his fingertips, thinking of Hoseok, and Minhyuk, and the younger boys, and Hyunwoo. His home. "I hardly notice it," he answers. "It doesn't hurt at all."

.

Kihyun manages to surprise Hyungwon with the chocolates back at Blue Moon. He pulls the younger pet aside before they part ways, tells him to hold out his palm and close his eyes, and places the little paper bag of candies in his hand.

"For helping me," Kihyun explains, when Hyungwon looks at the gift in bewilderment.

"You didn't have to, Kihyunnie," Hyungwon says, though the smile that tugs at his lips tells Kihyun he appreciates the gesture, nonetheless.

Kihyun leaves the box with the cupcake on Minhyuk's vanity with a little handwritten note, nestled between towers of makeup, because he knows Minhyuk is still at the pool with Changkyun and Jooheon at this time -- not likely to be swimming laps, of course. More like just lounging in the hot tub.

Now, onto Hoseok.

The master is not in the parlor or dining room or on the terrace or in any of the pets' rooms. Kihyun, after scouring nearly every other room in Blue Moon (and almost the entire hotel itself), wants to kick himself for not checking the master suite first. It's Hoseok's room, after all. Why would he not be there?

With the last little paper bag of chocolates in his hand, Kihyun stands in front of the door to the master suite and raises his fist to knock.

And stops.

Voices on the other side. Something about the tone of the voices makes Kihyun feel that he is intruding, that he shouldn't be here. Hoseok is speaking and Hyunwoo is responding in short sentences. Hoseok's voice, muffled, raises in pitch and tone before falling flat again, his distress clear even through the layer of wood between him and Kihyun. Kihyun's heart beats in his eardrums. He crouches closer to the door, pressing his ear against it carefully.

"Don't make a rash decision," Hyunwoo is saying. "Take your time to think about this."

"I have," Hoseok says. "I've been thinking about this so much. I can't sleep for how much I think about it. I have to go away. This can't -- this can't be our lives, hyung."

Kihyun forgets to breathe. What is Hoseok talking about? Going away? His hand itches to twist the doorknob, to enter and shout his presence.

"I know it's hard," Hyunwoo says gently.

"You don't," Hoseok responds despondently. He sounds like he's been crying, his voice both watery and stuffy, and Kihyun's heart breaks. "You can't know. You've never felt this, not like this."

Hyunwoo doesn't say anything. The silence stretches between them. Hoseok sniffles. Then, Hyunwoo says, "You're wrong. I have felt something like it. And I shaped it into something else. I shaped it into you. There are other options. You can remain a master, if that's what you want."

Silence, again. Kihyun hears the mattress creak. He imagines Hoseok curled against Hyunwoo's broad chest, seeking comfort and solace. Hoseok says, "I don't think that's what I want."

Kihyun wrenches his ear from the door, breathing hard. He has been uprooted, and feels like waves are crashing into him from all sides. Not knowing what else to do, he runs.

.

Minhyuk finds him, an hour later, sitting on the floor of his closet in the dark wearing one of Hoseok’s older sweaters and little else, the walls on all sides a little over an arms’ length distance from his spot in the center on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. Minhyuk stands in the doorway, his shadow looming over Kihyun, and Kihyun doesn’t remember how he got here, nor what he’s been doing for the past hour. Has he just been sitting here crying? Staring off into space? He sniffs, blinking up at Minhyuk.

“Kihyunnie,” Minhyuk sighs, taking a few steps into the closet and turning on the light. If he’s surprised by what he sees, he doesn’t show it. Kihyun thinks he must look a mess -- the space between his ears is ringing and throbbing and his whole face feels wet. “What’s wrong?”

Kihyun doesn’t say anything. He pulls his knees up tighter against his chest and tries to stifle the next wave of tears he feels building up behind his eyes. It burns. It hurts. He thinks of Hoseok, the back of him, as he leaves Blue Moon behind. Would he say good bye? Why is he leaving? Why doesn’t he want to be a master anymore? Has Kihyun done something -- has, perhaps, Kihyun’s behaviors and needs proven too difficult for Hoseok to handle? He knows he wasn’t easy when he first arrived, knows he was maybe too cautious and caustic, suspicious, but over time didn’t that change as he grew comfortable here?

Maybe that is it. He’s grown too comfortable. He talks back too much. Teases as though he and Hoseok could be equals. Sometimes, he even calls Hoseok simply ‘Hoseok’. Not Master or Sir. On top of that, he’s the reason the House is under scrutiny.

And then there was that client the other night. The one who made Kihyun feel like dirt. Not just dirty, but like something he wouldn't even pick off the bottom of his shoe. How Kihyun had gone to Hoseok after, and complained.

“Kihyun,” Minhyuk says more sternly, jolting Kihyun out of his thoughts. He looks up at Minhyuk again, a whimper in the back of his throat. “I came to look for you after I saw the cupcake on my vanity. Thank you for that. Aren’t you thoughtful?”

Normally, the praise would lift Kihyun’s spirits, but he feels frozen over and empty instead. Minhyuk takes Kihyun by the arm gently and coaxes him to his feet. Kihyun’s knees ache in protest after remaining in the same position for so long, but he stands, allowing Minhyuk to guide him out into the room proper.

Minhyuk doesn’t say anything as he sits Kihyun down in front of his vanity, cupping the younger pet’s face in his hands and brushing the pads of his thumbs under Kihyun’s eyes. “So far away,” Kihyun hears Minhyuk mumble. “What got you into this state? Why didn’t you come to me? Or to Master Hoseok?”

Kihyun shudders at the gentle touch, reorienting himself to the world, his mind fuzzy. He registers the unintended caress of Minhyuk’s breath over his cheek.

“D’you think I’ve been a bad pet?” he asks Minhyuk in a small voice.

“What?” Minhyuk sounds surprised, his mouth falling open into a soft circle. “Of course not.”

“It’s just that,” Kihyun begins, his fingers playing with the fraying cuffs of Hoseok’s sweater, which just brushes past the tops of his thighs. “I think I’ve done something to upset Master Hoseok.”

“He could never be upset with you,” Minhyuk offers. “You know that.”

Kihyun closes his eyes as Minhyuk continues to dry the remnants of tears on his face. “That doesn’t…” he begins with some difficulty, “preclude me being bad. Or doing bad things.”

“Have you done anything bad recently, Kihyunnie?” Minhyuk asks, his tone making it apparent that he doesn’t believe Kihyun will answer in the affirmative, but Kihyun folds his lips in between his teeth as another wave of tears bubbles up to the surface, spilling over.

“The client,” Kihyun says, gasping. “I shouldn’t have made such a fuss. I should know better. The other House -- I would never have gone to my master with something so small and stupid at my other House.”

“Oh, Kihyun, no,” Minhyuk says, cupping his cheeks again. “The other House mistreated you. Masters Hoseok and Hyunwoo -- they won’t.”

“But Master Hoseok is leaving,” Kihyun states, eyes flying open to gauge Minhyuk’s reaction.

Minhyuk’s fingers tighten on Kihyun’s chin, digging into the softness of his cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. His eyes narrow, and that wall falls between them again, the one that Kihyun cannot see but can feel so intimately.

“Minhyuk,” Kihyun says, then pleads. He wraps both hands around the other’s wrists. “Minhyuk, you’re hurting me.”

Minhyuk shakes his head, his grip loosening, fingers turning gentle again. After a moment, he says, “Your cheeks are all red, Kihyunnie,” almost sweetly, brushing the pads of his thumbs over Kihyun’s skin again, like he hadn’t been the one to force the color upon them in the first place. His touch is soothing, calming, like a salve for a burn.

“Will you help me get ready for the evening?” Kihyun asks. He doesn’t usually have to ask, anymore. They have a ritual, now, but he asks, because it feels safer that way.

“Of course,” Minhyuk says, smiling -- beaming -- like he’d swallowed the sun.

.

The client returns that evening. The young one smelling of oily money. He’s made an appointment with Kihyun. Tonight the pets are in silks and delicate chains. Kihyun smiles when the client approaches him, flutters his lashes, and ignores the frantic beating of his own heart.

He sees Minhyuk out of the corner of his eye, serving a table of guests and flirting with the bawdy men there. Minhyuk glances at him from over his shoulder, holding Kihyun in place with his eyes, his expression shuttering at whatever he sees reflected on Kihyun’s face.

Kihyun wrenches his gaze away. The client is in front of him, his hand on the small of Kihyun’s back. He pushes him toward the corridor with the private rooms. Kihyun tries to remember to exhale every three steps he takes to keep steady as they enter the corridor. He can do this. He can be a good pet. Master Hoseok would stay if only Kihyun would behave like a pet worthy of calling Blue Moon home.

They stop in front of a door, and the client reaches forward to open it. Hoseok’s voice rings out from the mouth of the corridor, echoing down the narrow space.

“Excuse me, but have you made an appointment?”

The client turns, a grin plastered onto his face. “Of course. You’ll see I’ve already checked in with Master Hyunwoo,” he says dismissively.

Hoseok nears, his eyes on Kihyun, who keeps his gaze trained on the floor. “You are aware of our rules?”

“Of course,” the client says again.

“If he says a safeword, you must--”

“I know,” the client says tersely. “I am aware.”

“We’ll be monitoring the audio,” Hoseok says, and finally Kihyun lifts his gaze. Hoseok is still looking at him pointedly. He knows that Hyunwoo monitors the private rooms in this way, even when he and Hoseok are out meeting with clients and guests in the parlor -- the audio feeds connect to Hyunwoo’s tablet -- but it has never been stated so explicitly, and it is generally considered a crude and unnecessary measure in most Houses.

Kihyun flushes, embarrassed to once again be so much trouble. That ends tonight. “Master,” he says demurely, “Mister Choi is experienced.”

The client’s hand comes to rest around the curve of Kihyun’s exposed hip, his fingers finding a groove there to fit himself against. “Yes,” he says. “Experienced.”

Hoseok purses his lips but acquiesces, bowing slightly to the client. “Of course,” he says. “Please, I apologize for any inconvenience. I hope you will enjoy your time here.”

Kihyun is shoved into the room, and the door closes behind him. The client, again, pushes the switch for the lights up to full brightness, making Kihyun squint at first.

“What an annoyance,” the client says, referring to Hoseok. "Like a little rat."

Kihyun’s stomach is twisting already. He shouldn’t speak of Hoseok like that. But he doesn’t have much time to dwell on this, as the client is already stripping out of his suit, tossing Kihyun his jacket with a barked command to fold it.

Kihyun does so, unsure where this is going. He puts the neatly folded jacket on the bed. It is followed by the client’s pants, and his dress shirt. The belt he coils into a tight spiral, letting it rest on top of the pile of clothing. The client is wearing a white tank and gray briefs underneath.

“You follow orders so well,” the client says, walking forward and circling Kihyun once, his gaze heated. He stands in front of him, and suddenly takes him by his hair, his fist tight against Kihyun’s scalp. Kihyun yelps more in surprise than in pain, needing to arch his neck back to release some of the tension. The client is nearly a head taller than he is, wider and broader, too. “Don’t you, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” Kihyun whispers.

“Here are my rules: You can only say yes, no, or sir. Or beg. Understand?”

Kihyun pauses, thinking. What about safewords? But the client is impatient, fisting his hair tighter, putting pressure on his scalp. “Yes -- yes, sir,” Kihyun says again, if only to get some relief from the pain.

The client does release his hold, satisfied, and Kihyun sighs.

“So simple to control,” the client says. He smiles, and it makes Kihyun want to throw up. "Do you know a man named Bang Yongguk?"

Kihyun tries to shake his head but the movement is aborted by the man's grip in his hair. Still, the message comes across.

The man chuckles. “He is a politician," he says. "He has many opinions, some of which are about toys like you, but what does a man like Bang Yongguk know about pets and their desires?”

Kihyun doesn’t know, and he doesn’t think he has to answer, or understand. He blinks at the client, uncertain, and the client laughs cruelly.

“Of course you’d have no answer,” he says.

He tells Kihyun to strip and then ties Kihyun to the bed by his ankles, face pressed against a pillow. He moves the pile of clothes to the small table beside the bed. He ties Kihyun’s arms behind them in a reverse prayer, the position already putting strain on Kihyun’s shoulders. If it is to be like last time, Kihyun thinks, all he has to do is take it. The client will wear himself out. He will stop. There is an end to this.

Kihyun breathes out through his teeth, determined, as the client begins.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: triggers as tagged in this chapter.

It starts with the client's fingers. They are well-manicured, with short, clipped fingernails. He opens Kihyun up with a generous helping of lube, and fucks him with three fingers hard and fast, words falling from his lips that make Kihyun's toes curl. "My little slut," he calls Kihyun, crooking his fingers deep inside when Kihyun climaxes with a muffled cry, breathing hard on the mattress.  
  
Something blunt and firm nudges against Kihyun's stretched hole, and he gasps when he feels the head of a plug breach him, the body of the fat toy filling him up. The client flicks the end of the toy when it's snug inside of him, making Kihyun twitch and shudder. "Do you like it?" he asks.  
  
Kihyun sinks into the mattress, trying to catch his breath.  
  
The client's hand comes around the back of his neck and presses his face into the sheets, hard, smothering him against the covers. "I asked you a question."  
  
The panic sets in quickly. He can't get air into his lungs. He tries to breathe but gets a mouthful of cloth instead, and his body jerks naturally against the force holding him down. He can feel his lungs tightening, starting to burn, and then finally -- air. "Yes!" Kihyun rasps, when the client lets up a little so that he can breathe, remembering the rules. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Knew you would," the client says, before tying the blindfold over his eyes.  
  
The blindfold disorients him, and does nothing to temper the thrum of his panic. What he can't see, he can imagine. The client has left him for a moment. He is examining him. He is figuring out how to make Kihyun scream. He wants to crush Kihyun like a bug. What were the rules again? The words he could say? He thinks of Hoseok, and tries to calm his breathing while keeping his ears sensitized to every small noise. Was that a footstep coming closer? The mattress dips.  
  
The client plays with the plug, twisting it inside of Kihyun, pushing it deeper until the swollen base is threatening to press past his stretched rim. Kihyun clenches his teeth, groaning at how much it is, how wide and full he feels. He's fucked with the plug, slowly and without any warmth, the rhythm of it lulling Kihyun into a strange, faraway place. Then without warning, the client pulls the plug out of him, leaving Kihyun too shocked to shout. He's empty, and spread wide, the soft leather restraints around his ankles holding fast.  
  
"You scared, pet?" the client whispers, too close to Kihyun's ear. He flinches away, and hears the client chuckle, his hot breath puffing over Kihyun's cheek. "You're breathing so fast."  
  
He should say something, shouldn't he? He doesn't like this anymore. The game has slipped past degradation into something more sinister, leaving a sour taste in the air.  
  
"I--" he begins to say, but snaps his teeth together when he feels the client climb into the space between his legs, spread his cheeks with his hands, and press into him. A hand wraps around his throat, the blade edge between the thumb and forefinger pressing against Kihyun's windpipe under his collar. He arches his back in an attempt to find leverage, but that only makes the client grip tighter.  
  
"You feel so good," the client whispers, his voice gruff. "Does the fear make it better? Tell me you like it.”

Kihyun's shoulders burn. His hands tingle. He can't breathe. And the client fucks him until his head feels light, like it's spinning. And then he lets go, and Kihyun chokes on air, wishing he could curl up into a ball. He doesn't say anything, thinking of Hoseok, of the House, how all he's ever brought anyone is trouble.

It continues. Kihyun thinks of the mansion by the ocean, how beautiful everything was there. He remembers how the sand felt between his toes. For a fleeting moment, he wishes he had run out into the sea, and let the waves carry him out past the horizon.  
  
.  
  
The door opens. The client stops, releasing his hold around Kihyun’s neck and clambering off of him. Kihyun’s cheek smashes against the pillow as he gasps for breath. His arms ache so much he can barely feel them anymore. He is raw, and spent, and feels like he’s floating, like he’s watching from above. He’d answered the client’s questions with meek yes’s and no’s for as long as he could until words meant nothing to him, just sounds he could make to appease the other. How many times has he been too close to blacking out for lack of air? His lungs burn. He isn’t sure how long it’s been. Minutes. Hours. Days. His mind is nothing but static.  
  
“What’s this?” the client asks. His words reach Kihyun as though he were underwater.  
  
The door closes. Kihyun tries to tell his body to move, to look, but his brain doesn’t seem to be able to connect to his limbs.  
  
“Thought you might like more company, sir,” someone says. In his haze, it takes Kihyun a moment to place the voice. Minhyuk. “No extra charge, of course. Think of it as an apology for the inconvenience earlier.”  
  
"Inconvenience," the client repeats, huffing. "Your Masters don't know how to run a proper pet house."  
  
"I suppose we're just not up to your calibre, sir," Minhyuk remarks.  
  
Kihyun moans, his senses slowly returning to him. Everything hurts. His ankles feel broken, though he knows rationally they are probably just red, skin scraped away from struggling. He's been crying again. Hoseok won't like that, he thinks.  
  
The mattress dips suddenly, and fear grips him so swiftly he's frozen with it. He whimpers, though it comes out broken, his throat ruined.  
  
"How long have his arms been like this?" he hears Minhyuk ask. His voice is close to Kihyun. Maybe he is the one who sat on the bed. The client says something that Kihyun can't catch, and Minhyuk responds, "I am only saying that the House will charge you if there is permanent damage. I'm just going to switch the position of his arms."  
  
He feels Minhyuk loosen the bonds around his wrists, and then remove them. He removes the blindfold, though Kihyun keeps his eyes closed, the light pricking at them. Minhyuk holds Kihyun still with one hand while the other slowly moves his arms, one by one, to his sides. Kihyun's face is wet. It hurts so much, the burn of blood rushing back into muscles deprived of proper circulation for too long. Minhyuk rubs life back into his arms and fingers, shushing him when Kihyun cries from the feeling of pins and needles jabbing into them. "You're okay," he says.  
  
"Tie them to the bed," the client orders, and when Minhyuk doesn't move quickly enough, he says it again, louder. "Do it."  
  
"Minhyuk," Kihyun babbles in his broken voice, "no, please Minhyuk, no -- it hurts -- please."  
  
But Minhyuk shushes him again, and moves Kihyun's wrists above his head, tying them around one of the bars in the headboard. "Baby," Minhyuk says, reminding Kihyun of Hoseok, "just a little longer."  
  
"You staying around to watch?" the client asks. Kihyun can hear him pacing. Growing angry at the interruption.  
  
"If it would please you," Minhyuk answers demurely.  
  
The client seems to give this some thought. He says, "It would," and Kihyun can imagine the cheap, satisfied smile on his face. The client instructs Minhyuk to kneel by the bed, and then he climbs between Kihyun's legs, plays with him until he spreads him open again. His hand around Kihyun's neck as he pushes inside.  
  
Kihyun's body seizes. Revolts. He can't take anymore. He'd been lulled into a dangerous headspace before, utterly pliant and submissive, a ragdoll, but when Minhyuk opened the door the fog had slowly started to dissipate. He's not a broken toy. He feels, and he hurts, and he cries. "Redlight," he chokes out. "Red, please -- redlight, redlight --!"  
  
For five heartbeats, it continues, and Kihyun sobs, a fundamental part of him fracturing inside. He thinks, if he lives through this, he'll never not feel this pain.  
  
But then the pressure on his throat releases. He drops, buries his face into the pillow, heaving. Slowly, the sounds of a struggle fill his ears. The client slips out of him and off of him. Bodies thump onto the floor. He can hear wheezing, someone struggling for breath.  
  
Minhyuk, Kihyun thinks, pulling at his bonds. The rope around his wrists slips loose with little struggle -- Minhyuk must have been careful to tie them in this way -- and he frees his hands. He tries to push himself up but there's no strength left in his arms. Finally, he's able to crane his neck to the side to see the client seated between Minhyuk's legs on the floor, his back against Minhyuk's front, the client's belt a black stripe across his throat held in place by Minhyuk's hands.  
  
Kihyun watches, in equal parts horror and satisfaction, as the client struggles against Minhyuk, his feet kicking out in front of him uselessly, his fingers trying to dig underneath the leather at his neck, but Minhyuk is ruthless, his teeth clenched, his eyes so dark they look black.  
  
The client's eyes roll back into his head.  
  
"Don't kill him," Kihyun whispers, his throat burning. Minhyuk doesn't seem to hear, pulling even harder on the leather. "Minhyuk!" Kihyun rasps with his half-voice. "Don't kill him."  
  
Minhyuk stares at Kihyun as the man between his legs struggles for air, the client's face turning red, then purple. “Please,” Kihyun mouths. The client shudders and then falls limp. Minhyuk lets go, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and wild. He looks at Kihyun again, an off-kilter smile spreading across his face. It’s terrifying, and revealing, and Kihyun realizes with sudden, absolute clarity that this is who Minhyuk has been all along.

Carelessly, Minhyuk pushes the client off of him, and the larger man falls to the side in a heap. “He’s alive,” he says, standing and brushing his hands off onto his silk pants. “Unfortunately.” He walks towards the bed, bends to untie Kihyun’s ankles.  
  
Kihyun’s head spins when Minhyuk helps him sit up, his vision spotting and fading at the edges. He still feels as though he can’t draw in enough breath. He stumbles out of Minhyuk’s hold to where the client is a tangled mass of limbs on the floor, standing over him, trying to get his bearings. Then he rears his foot back and kicks him in the gut, right under his ribs, with the ball of his foot.  
  
It’s not enough, so he kicks him again. And again. Pain flares up the blade of his foot as the door slams open so hard it cracks against the wall. Kihyun crumples, but Minhyuk is there to cushion his fall.  
  
“Kihyun,” Minhyuk murmurs as Kihyun shakes against him, the shock finally catching up, “Kihyunnie, Kihyunnie.”  
  
Hoseok and Hyunwoo are standing at the door, panting like they’ve been running.  
  
Hyunwoo says, “Hoseok, call Himchan and tell him we have an injured pet. I’ll call the hospital.”  
  
.

Everything moves very quickly and very slowly. Kihyun is aware he is at the hospital. He is aware of Hoseok’s hand around his. He is aware of the examination room, of being checked over for injuries. His throat will heal of the bruises. The abrasions on his ankles are tended to. There is a small, almost insignificant hairline fracture in his foot. Someone in a white coat shines a light in his eyes. His fingers can’t stop shaking. They put him onto a bed, and then they give him something that makes him fall asleep.

He dreams. Himchan is there, speaking to Hyunwoo and Hoseok in his hospital room. Where is Minhyuk? Back at Blue Moon. Safe, he hopes. And far away from him. He sees Minhyuk’s smile like it had been sliced across his face.

There is a man standing next to Himchan who looks familiar, but Kihyun doesn’t know him by name. His hair is shorn close to his head, his black coat severe in the brightness of the hospital room.

“I’ll take care of this,” the stranger says, his voice so low it seems to echo from somewhere deep within his chest. “But you’ll owe me.” He’s looking at Hyunwoo. Hyunwoo nods.

“Yongguk,” Himchan says, “are you sure?”

The stranger’s name is Yongguk. He says, “He’s charged your pets with assault. There are no witnesses. The audio tells us very little, only that Kihyun said his safeword, and the client might not have complied. It could be argued so many ways. They’ll say Kihyun and -- the other one, Minhyuk? -- attacked. Went too far. The system is not skewed in favor of pets, as you know. They won't be treated lightly. They’ll be slaughtered.”

Hoseok makes a choked noise that wrenches at Kihyun, but he’s dreaming, after all. His body is asleep.

“What will you do?” Hoseok asks.

Yongguk says, “I’ll make him drop the charges.”

Murmurs, after that. Hoseok’s shoulders, normally broad and strong and proud, look small. Kihyun drifts. He thinks something very bad has happened to him. His head is spinning yet dangerously blank. He’s so tired, deep in his bones. He falls unconscious again, and it feels like a blessing.

.


	5. Chapter 5

Hoseok is holding his hand when Kihyun wakes, the master sitting in an armchair pulled close to the mattress, slumped over the side of the bed and snoring softly. Kihyun's fingers twitch under Hoseok’s hand, though he'd meant to remove his own hand completely, maybe stroke his fingers through Hoseok's hair. 

Hoseok inhales deeply at the small movement, sitting up as he does so, blinking owlishly. He looks at Kihyun, his eyes wide. Then he smiles, the widest, most brilliant smile Kihyun has ever seen. It makes Kihyun's chest hurt.

“You're awake,” Hoseok whispers, rubbing his hand over Kihyun's. “How do you feel?”

His limbs ache like they've been hammered into a thin sheet. He feels flimsy, like he's made of paper. “How long was I asleep?” he mumbles, surprised he is able to manage such coherency.

“You've been in and out for days,” Hoseok says. “Three.” 

This piece of information brushes over Kihyun slowly as he focuses on the gentle _scritch-scritch_ of Hoseok's hand rubbing over his. Three days. Three whole days of nothingness. Three days of Kihyun languishing in bed, useless, as the others worked. Probably. He inhales, exhales. It feels like his chest is collapsing. His right foot feels tight, and when he looks, he sees it is not under the covers, and that it has been bound and wrapped in a cast so that it can heal. “I'm sorry,” he says, feeling wretched, his voice a hollow mimicry of what it used to be. He tries to turn away from Hoseok, but is stopped by Hoseok's hand on his waist on top of the thick blanket covering him.

“You are not supposed to be the one apologizing,” Hoseok says, and when Kihyun looks, his master is crying. His eyes are rimmed red with dark shadows underneath them, his face blotchy, his hair a matted mess. This is not the face of a man who has been crying for a moment, but of one who’s been crying for days. Kihyun wonders what could have broken Hoseok’s heart so to render him in such a state.

“Are you still leaving?” Kihyun asks. He tries to conjure up some emotion other than the dark pit he has fallen into, but there's nothing. Kihyun is empty, and thin, and if he's nothing then nothing can hurt him.

“What?” Hoseok breathes, surprised, his hand tightening around Kihyun's waist over the covers. “Where did you -- I'm not leaving. I was never leaving. I'd never leave you.”

“You told Master Hyunwoo you didn't want to be a master anymore.”

Confusion flits across Hoseok's face, then recognition, then despair. “You weren't meant to hear that,” he says, confirming that the statement is true.

A spike of feeling. Kihyun pushes it down, though it nonetheless manifests in a dry sob. Then Hoseok is pulling at Kihyun's hands which have somehow moved to cover Kihyun's face. “No,” Kihyun pleads, holding fast, tightening and curling into a ball. “No, no, no.”

“Kihyun, love,” Hoseok says. His voice wavers, thick and wet. “Please. I was going to speak to you about it. But I needed to talk to Hyunwoo-hyung, first. And understand what it was that I was asking for. Kihyun, if you could be anything you wanted, do anything else, what would you be? What would you do?”

The question reminds Kihyun of Minhyuk. Trapped in the dark behind his own hands, Kihyun whimpers and says, “If I couldn’t be your pet, I wouldn’t want to be anything.”

“You don’t mean that,” Hoseok says sadly.

“I do,” Kihyun says, lowering his hands. His bottom lip trembles. He remembers how it felt, on the verge of asphyxiation, how everything seemed to expand and contract at once, the universe shoved through a pinhole. How he longed for the other side, far, far away from the pain. “I can be nothing else,” he says. “ _Look at me_. I don’t know how to be anything else. It's always going to be like this.”

Hoseok’s face crumples. Fat tears stream down his cheeks, the tip of his nose reddening alarmingly quickly. He folds over like someone had gutted him, his arms circling Kihyun’s head and shoulders, and presses his forehead to Kihyun’s temple, and kisses his cheek with wet lips.

Here, with Hoseok huddled over him protectively, Kihyun’s eyelids flutter closed. With effort, he makes his arms move to wrap around Hoseok’s shoulders, to pull him in tighter.

“I love you,” Hoseok whispers. “So much. But I’ve failed you.”

The dark pit Kihyun had fallen into is a well, and now it is gushing. A switch has been flipped. Kihyun is sobbing. He clutches at Hoseok in desperation lest he drown, and slowly, Hoseok moves from the chair onto the bed, holding Kihyun against his chest as he breaks against him. “I said the safeword,” Kihyun cries. He hurts all over and inside. There is a gaping wound where his heart used to be. “Why didn’t he stop?”

“Oh, Kihyun, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Hoseok’s fingers card through his hair as Kihyun buries his nose into Hoseok’s scent. He imagines falling for a very long time, with Hoseok at the bottom, waiting for him.

.

Blue Moon temporarily closes its doors to the public. Kihyun tries not to let the guilt of being one of the main reasons for the closure eat him alive. He spends the next few days in a haze similar to the first three, uncertain how time works when numbness is the pervasive feeling in the world. The hospital has left him with a small bottle of blue pills that are supposed to help him sleep. He takes them even when he is not supposed to be sleeping, when no one is watching, and when Hoseok notices, the bottle is already halfway to empty.

Someone stays with him, after that, at all times. To help him wash. To make sure he eats. Usually, it is Hoseok, and sometimes Hyunwoo. One time, it is Changkyun, who spends the whole two hours he was told to watch over Kihyun pacing the room, looking out the window, checking Kihyun’s forehead for heat like he had a fever instead of a longing not to exist imbedded in his marrow.

Some days are easier than others. Some days are almost normal. He thinks a lot about the House and how powerless it really is against those it brings through its doors. How he’s been trapped in a cycle of cruelty. How everyone is complicit in it.

Minhyuk is not allowed to be alone with him. He accompanies Hyunwoo, usually, and settles in behind Kihyun and plays with his hair or scratches patterns over the shirt on his back. “Did I wait too long?” he asks, once, in a tone that makes Kihyun shiver and shake. Hyunwoo escorts Minhyuk out of the room, after that, a firm hand on the back of his neck. They don’t know about him, Kihyun realizes. 

When the pills run out, sleep evades him. Hoseok holds him and hums soft lullabies to help him sleep at night, and sometimes it works, but most of the time it doesn’t. He dreams of being split in two. He dreams of being trapped in a steel box that compresses him until he is fine dust. He dreams of Hoseok leaving him. Those are the worst. He always wakes up in a cold sweat, his hands at his collar checking to see that it’s still there.

When the fog lifts, Hoseok is awake and looking at him, holding him. He kisses his forehead. “You’re safe,” he says. “I love you. Things will get better.”

Kihyun can’t hear it enough.

.

“ _Kihyunnie_.”

Kihyun opens his eyes to darkness, but he adjusts to the shadows quickly, gasping softly at what he sees.

Light from the moon reflects off of Minhyuk’s face so that he glows a hazy silver, his eyes glittering like coins at the bottom of a lake. He has his chin pillowed on top of his crossed arms at the edge of the mattress, likely on his knees beside the bed. How did he come in without waking Kihyun or Hoseok? How long has he been here, watching, waiting?

Hoseok is breathing slowly against the back of Kihyun’s neck, the older man’s arms wrapped loosely around Kihyun’s waist, deep in sleep.

“Scoot over,” Minhyuk whispers, rising slowly and lifting himself onto the mattress. Kihyun sees the black shadow of a tablet emerge from under his arms -- Hyunwoo’s, certainly -- and wonders how long Minhyuk’s been listening to more than just the news on the innocuous machine.

Kihyun doesn’t move. He takes in the sharp line of Minhyuk’s jaw against the moonlight, his dangerous beauty, and puts a halting hand on Minhyuk’s wrist. “No,” he says.

Minhyuk’s eyes narrow, though he smiles. “No?”

Kihyun shakes his head to emphasize his point. “No. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“But I miss you,” Minhyuk complains, pouting.

Kihyun wants to give in to him, wants to comply, but he remembers how Minhyuk had looked when he’d held the client’s life in his hands. How terrifying and cruel and still so lovely. He moves his other hand to lay over Hoseok’s on his belly, reassured by the weight of his master’s arm, his warmth across his back. He draws upon Hoseok’s strength, upon Hyunwoo’s, even though he isn’t physically here with them. Taking a steadying breath, Kihyun says, “You have to show me that I can trust you, again.”

“You can trust me,” Minhyuk insists. “I saved your life.” 

“No,” Kihyun says. “You played with it. Like it was a game.”

The air stills, and all the little hairs on the back of Kihyun’s neck stand. Minhyuk reminds Kihyun of a statue -- cold, distant, unfeeling. How well Minhyuk has pretended all this time, Kihyun thinks. Is it a mark of strength? Or a deeply imbedded character flaw?

Kihyun’s hand is still on Minhyuk’s wrist, and Minhyuk turns his hand over to slot their fingers together. “Then can we start another game, Kihyunnie?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun swallows. “Only if we play by my rules.”

Minhyuk’s eyes narrow again, considering and calculating. Kihyun wonders what someone like Minhyuk sees when he looks at him, and as he wonders, Minhyuk’s fingers tighten around his. “Fine,” Minhyuk says, smirking.

“The first rule is: Do not touch me without my permission,” Kihyun says, more definitive than he feels, but even as he says the words, he feels power like a veil drape over him. However thin and vulnerable, it is there.

Minhyuk’s jaw drops as Kihyun pulls his hand away from Minhyuk’s grasp. “That’s absurd,” Minhyuk hisses, careful not to wake Hoseok. “I have to ask you every time?”

“Yes,” Kihyun says simply, his heart clawing up to his throat anticipating Minhyuk’s reaction. He wanted to test him, and he waits, watches, as the other pet considers this rule. As Minhyuk reigns in his initial outrage and scales it down, files it away. As Minhyuk smiles.

“What’s the second rule?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun can breathe again. He hugs Hoseok’s arms tighter around him. “I’ll tell you in the morning,” he says. “Over breakfast.”

Minhyuk grins, his teeth flashing. “Oh, I think I’ll like this, Kihyunnie.”

.


	6. Chapter 6

Kihyun watches Hoseok sleep, watches the sun creep over the planes of his face, watches the tiny movements of his eyes behind his eyelids. Everything about Hoseok is beautiful, and pure, and lovely. Kihyun wriggles his hand out from underneath the covers and traces his index finger down the bridge of Hoseok's nose lightly, feeling his lips quirk when Hoseok wrinkles his nose in response. He drags his finger over the soft, thin skin under Hoseok's eyes next, just above the swell of his cheeks. Then over his jawline. Then over his lips. Hoseok parts them, kisses Kihyun's fingertip when he stops over the plump curve of his bottom lip.

"Hello," Kihyun whispers, tucking himself in closer, pulling the covers back to rights over his shoulders.

"Hello," Hoseok murmurs, eyes closed still. He lifts his chin reflexively as Kihyun curls himself against Hoseok's chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Kihyun says truthfully. He'd been woken by Minhyuk, and then again by Jooheon very early in the morning when the younger pet brought in a tray filled to spilling with fresh fruit and slices of toast and jams for breakfast, two glasses of water on opposite sides of the carrier. It sits untouched on Kihyun's nightstand.

He feels Hoseok's hand travel up his spine, then into his hair. Hoseok scratches over Kihyun's scalp lightly with his fingertips, still half asleep. "That's good," Hoseok whispers.

"Is it true Blue Moon is opening again in a week?" Kihyun asks.

Hoseok's fingers stop scratching. He breathes in noisily, stretching his body as he does so, though returning to his position around Kihyun when he's done. "It's true," he says simply. "How is it you manage to learn about everything so quickly?"

"Jooheon dropped off breakfast this morning," Kihyun says. "He's really bad with secrets."

Hoseok chuckles. The sound makes Kihyun breathless. Kihyun kisses Hoseok's collarbone, sighing against him, trying not to worry about the House re-opening. He won't be ready, he knows, but he'll try, and if needed, he can pretend. He's good at pretending.

"There's something else," Hoseok says lightly, returning to scratching his fingers against Kihyun's scalp. The massage lulls Kihyun into a warm place. He feels his eyelids drooping the longer it goes on without Hoseok continuing to speak.

Finally, after what seems like too long, Kihyun manages to murmur, "What is it?"

Hoseok grunts, like he'd drifted off himself, forgetting he was speaking in the first place. He says, "When Blue Moon re-opens, I want us to be somewhere else, together. I want us to leave."

Shock ripples through Kihyun in waves. He stiffens in Hoseok's hold, and Hoseok must notice, because he stops carding his fingers through Kihyun's hair and pulls back to look at him, hooking his finger gently under Kihyun's chin when Kihyun refuses to meet his eyes.

"I spoke to Hyunwoo a lot over the past few days," Hoseok explains slowly. "Weeks. I -- had a lot to figure out. But the one thing that never wavered for me was how in love with you I am. And I would like for us to be together, if that's what you want, too. If that means giving up my title as a Master, my position in this House, then I'll do it."

Kihyun’s heart feels like a hummingbird’s wings as it beats against the cage of his chest. "Where would we go?" he asks, his voice tight.

"Himchan has offered us a place to stay at his mansion in Busan," Hoseok says, grinning excitedly. "You remember him, right?"

"Yes," Kihyun says, still not sure what to think. Leave Blue Moon? Run away with Hoseok? It sounds like a fantasy, like something out of a dream.

"It would be safe there," Hoseok continues, glowing as brightly as Kihyun has ever seen him. "You could heal. We could be there together."

"What about Minhyuk?"

Hoseok's brows dip, his smile dimming slightly in wattage, but only out of confusion. He says, "What about him?"

"Would he come with us?"

Hoseok pauses. "Only if that is what you want."

"It is," Kihyun says immediately. "Minhyuk needs a safe place, too."

He doesn’t say, “Minhyuk needs _me_ ,” because he doesn’t know if that’s true yet, but he's absolutely certain Minhyuk would have killed that client if Kihyun hadn’t said anything.

"We can talk about it," Hoseok compromises, and Kihyun nods, his heart finally slowing enough for him to feel excited rather than anxious. He smiles, and the smile turns into nervous laughter, and then the laughter is bubbling through his chest and breaking through all the heavy, toxic sludge that had taken up residence inside of him over the past few days, and he feels light like air.

"What would I do there?" he asks Hoseok, holding him tight around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his lips. He knows it’ll come back -- that beaten, broken-down feeling -- but right now things are okay. This exact moment is just for him and Hoseok to share between them, and he allows himself to be happy, to be thrilled and excited. "What would I be?"

Hoseok chases his lips, kisses him again, laughing also, the joy spreading over him like a wild stroke of a paintbrush. "We could just -- _be_ ," he offers, a statement wonderful in its simplicity. Hoseok’s eyes are bright and full of love. "Not master and pet, just lovers. Each other's. That's what we would be."

"Oh," Kihyun says, a soft exclamation of realization, kissing Hoseok again, deeper and fuller and longer. "I want that so much."

"Me too, love." Hoseok touches him like he is precious, like he is cherished, and Kihyun thinks: _I love him, I love him, I love him._

.

Kihyun is leaving Blue Moon with many more things than he brought with him when he arrived. Already one suitcase is full, and another has little space left. He’s not sure how he came to have so many clothes. Certainly, Hoseok and Hyunwoo had filled his closet with costumes for the House, but there are other items in the mix, too -- soft hoodies that smell like Hoseok, shorts that he’s pretty sure are Changkyun’s, too many shirts with long sleeves.

He doesn’t recognize his own room now that it is stripped down to just furniture. He realizes they never got around to changing the pink and grey theme that Yoonho had left behind. Kihyun never minded. Pink is a becoming color for him, anyway.

A knock at his door. Kihyun looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a suitcase folding a pile of clothes so that they will fit neatly inside. He’s gotten used to moving around with what basically amounts to a club for a foot, and the certain liberties it allows him, like being carried down the stairs by Hoseok when he complains he is too tired to make the trip.

Changkyun lurks at the jamb, holding a wadded up sweater in his arms, looking uncertain.

“I think this is yours,” he says in that surprisingly low voice of his. And it’s only getting deeper with every day that passes.

“Throw it in the pile,” Kihyun says, smiling and nodding his chin towards the pile he’s working on. Changkyun doesn’t throw it, though; he steps inside and walks hesitantly toward Kihyun before sitting next to him, cross-legged also, fiddling with the sweater in his hands. 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” he says. 

It strikes Kihyun that Changkyun is very young, and for a moment he wishes he could stay to see him grow. Kihyun pauses in his chore and takes the sweater from Changkyun’s hands, folding it in his lap. “I still don’t really know what to think,” Kihyun admits. “I worry all the time this is a dream, or a big joke, or a test.”

“Master Hoseok -- I mean Hoseok-hyung -- loves you, though. He’d never...take advantage of you like that.” Changkyun blushes, his tongue twisting over his words. “I know we didn’t talk too much like this, but I’m going to miss you.”

“Changkyun,” Kihyun says, “I’m going to miss you, too. We’ll visit each other. The trip isn’t even an entire day with the trains.”

"That's what Yoonho said," Changkyun says, crossing his arms and slumping over. "And he didn't even leave the city."

"Well," Kihyun begins, trying to find a way to appease the younger's worries, "I'm not Yoonho. I'll make you a promise."

Changkyun grins at that, holding out his fist with his pinky extended in a childish gesture. “Promise," he says. Kihyun hooks his pinky with Changkyun's and vows to stay in touch, and Changkyun seems satisfied. "I’d love to see the beach," he continues. "Swim in the ocean.”

“Master Hyunwoo will definitely make that happen,” Kihyun says, returning Changkyun’s smile. Something about Changkyun makes him want to be as gentle as he can be. "He loves swimming." 

“Hyung,” Changkyun starts, “will you be okay with Minhyuk-hyung going with you guys?”

Kihyun furrows his brows, wrinkles his nose. “What do you mean?”

The flush on Changkyun’s cheeks grows deeper. “He just,” he begins with difficulty, “gives me a weird feeling. You know, growing up, there was this group of boys who would go around pulling wings off butterflies. They were awful. They’d just watch the poor bugs crawl around on the ground or wherever they left them, laughing. And then when it was time to go they’d stomp them to bits. Minhyuk-hyung kind of reminds me of them. I don’t know why, because he’s never given me any reason to -- Just be careful, is all.”

Kihyun stares at Changkyun, surprised at how closely Changkyun has guessed the truth about Minhyuk, touched at how the younger had sought him out to warn him about his perceptions. He wonders how much he should reveal. If he should reveal anything at all. He knows Hyunwoo told the other pets about what had happened but had kept the gruesome details out of the story. In the end, he smiles at Changkyun again, and in relief Changkyun mirrors it immediately.

Kihyun says, “Don’t worry about me, okay? Everyone has secrets. Everyone has different ways of dealing with them. Maybe someone once hurt Minhyuk very badly, and that’s why he is the way he is.”

“What about the butterflies?” Changkyun asks.

“They die,” Kihyun says. “Or they change, or adapt. I don’t know, Changkyun, maybe they're stronger than you think.”

Changkyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, watching Kihyun carefully, before his gaze drifts past Kihyun and to the pile of clothes by his side. “Can I help you pack?” he asks.

Kihyun reaches out to ruffle Changkyun’s hair, laughing when Changkyun squawks at the treatment. “Thought you’d never ask,” he says.

.

The water is warm. It laps at his feet, sucking the sand around his toes away as the gentle waves return to the ocean. His fingers find the collar at his throat, playing with the well-worn leather. Sometimes he takes it off when he sleeps. Hoseok had told him he didn’t have to wear it anymore at all, but Kihyun hadn’t liked the uncertainty that came without the reassuring weight around his neck. Maybe one day, he’d take it off completely, but for now, it reminds him of Hoseok.

Hoseok, who is standing at the edge of Himchan’s property waving at Kihyun to come back inside.

“It’s getting cold,” Hoseok shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Kihyun looks over his shoulder at him, and waves back. He’s not ready to go inside yet. The sun is setting, painting the sky in pinks and oranges and purples over the water. Beautiful. Nothing looks like this in Seoul -- peaceful, calm, untouched by human hands.

He wiggles his toes in the sand, watching the surf froth around his feet. In the mornings Himchan lets him watch him cook breakfast in the kitchen, and has started asking Kihyun to help in the smaller, easier tasks. He loves the repetitive motion of chopping and cutting and whisking, loves it even more when Hoseok stumbles into the kitchen and hugs him around his waist and Kihyun feeds him a little spoonful of the stew that’s been bubbling on Himchan’s stove.

He feels something soft settle around his shoulders and smiles as Hoseok comes to stand next to him, having thrown a sweater over Kihyun. “Put it on,” Hoseok suggests. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Kihyun shrugs it on, shivering as his body acclimates to the added layer. It smells like Hoseok. “I love it here,” Kihyun whispers, moving closer, until he’s pressed against Hoseok’s side. Hoseok’s arm comes to rest around his waist as Kihyun lowers his head to rest on top of Hoseok’s chest, his ear pressed against the other's beating heart. “And you,” Kihyun says. “I love you.”

Hoseok’s heart thumps strong and steady. Kihyun closes his eyes. The ocean stretches out in front of them to infinity, and behind them, perhaps a place to call home.

.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if you see anything that should be tagged that i didn't tag. 
> 
> comments are appreciated~ thank you
> 
> for the 'kinks' square in monsta x bingo
> 
> ...y'all know by now i don't like clean endings right? come talk to me on twitter? @andnowforyaya


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